Look Both Ways
by TARDISTraveller
Summary: Post-Last Christmas. Clara and the Doctor are travelling together again. But when an all-too familiar accident occurs, Clara is forced to fight through her anxieties and memories to keep a second tragedy from happening. Teen for car accident and mentions of blood.
1. Chapter 1

Clara stepped out of the TARDIS and onto an alien cobblestone road. It was a sweet little place they'd landed in, with old fashioned cars lining thin streets. Greenery was everywhere, and all of the houses had flower boxes in the windows and chimneys in the roofs. It reminded Clara of the Christmas village her parents and she had visited when she was little. Except, of course, for the lack of people and the lilac-colored sky.

The Doctor followed her out the door, and she spun around to give him a wide grin. "It's wonderful!"

He smiled proudly, looking from her bright eyes to the low wall surrounding the park beside them. "This is nothing. Wait til you try the fudge."

They started down the hill, heading for a row of shops. Only one place seemed to have their lights on; the store on the corner which had a wooden sign hanging just over the door. As they approached, Clara read 'Santa Fudge'. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she halted on the sidewalk.

"Doctor, you're sure we're on an alien planet? They've got fudge and Santa Claus."

He let out a small laugh as he read the sign, then pressed on toward the door. "No, no, no; that's just a glitch in the translation circuits. Their Santa is actually twenty feet tall and she leaves socks under the bed at New Year's."

Clara shook her head and hurried forward, then latched onto his arm. For once, he didn't protest. His smile actually seemed to brighten at her touch. Maybe those dream crabs had done him some good.

"I love exploring new planets."

He gazed down at her, eyes sparkling in the glow of the light in the sale window. Clara suddenly grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down toward herself. "What your head!"

The Doctor's skull narrowly missed whacking right into the sign above the door. They laughed it off, and then entered the shop, hearing the soft jingle of bells on the door.

The Doctor bent over slightly as they walked through the threshold. "This planet is smaller than I remember."

Clara turned up to him and stifled a laugh. He looked like Gandalf walking into a Hobbit's house, he was so tall. "Maybe you're just freakishly tall," she said, playfully nudging his shoulder. The Doctor smiled again and went to the counter, head tilted to avoid touching the ceiling.

Clara followed slowly after him, taking her time to smell every food-scented candle and look at all of the green and silver decorations tracing the walls and doorways. When she finally turned to the counter, she couldn't help but gasp. The short woman packing fudge into a neat little box was purple and had three eyes. Somehow, she reminded Clara a bit of her gran.

The Doctor met Clara's eye and motioned toward the wall of fudge behind the little old woman. He was already taking some out of his own box. Clara wrinkled her nose as she caught a strong whiff of banana smell. The Doctor swallowed and said, "It's better than pears."

Clara looked over the many flavors of fudge, finally choosing a blue one recommended by the Doctor. On taste, she guessed it was a kind of alien berry. She smiled again, ear to ear, as they left the little shop and walked back outside with their two bags in tow.

As soon as they were past the doorway, the Doctor reached into his jacket and pulled out a small metal device shaped like a phone of some kind. Clara swallowed her fudge and licked her fingers clean, then inquired, "What's that for?"

"It scans for alien life. Last time I was here, the streets were packed."

Clara looked around, noting the darkened windows and empty sidewalks. "Maybe they're on holiday?"

The Doctor shook his head, hitting a few buttons on his device with his thumb and then blowing into it with a creased brow. "Not likely. Not at this time of year, anyway."

Clara led them further down the hill as the Doctor tinkered with his alien tracker. It was a very nice day out, the sun shining just enough to make patterns through the trees without necessitating sunglasses. Maybe something really had happened to the people here, or else they'd all be out and about.

"Ah," the Doctor said, smiling and aiming his device toward the opposite street corner. "Finally a proper reading."

Clara turned to him, then looked back up at the trees as she heard the soft but indisputable sound of music begin to play somewhere in the distance. She backed up and looked toward the tops of the houses to the left, smiling faintly. "Doctor, do you hear that? Alien music."

The Doctor hardly heard her, ingrained as he was fiddling with his tracking device. As Clara's back was still turned, he stepped into the street, standing in between two parked cars. He cast an eye in each direction before proceeding across the street, staring at his device. As he neared the center of the street, it's point suddenly turned to his left. The Doctor shook his head. "Clara, I think this thing is broken."

Clara hardly heard him over the music, which had risen many decibels in the past few seconds. Suddenly, a car engine also joined the noise. It sounded like a racecar. A puzzled look came to Clara's face as she turned to the spot the Doctor had been standing in a few moments before, which was now empty.

Her eyes spotted him, standing encaptured by his tracker in the middle of the road, just as an old, speeding car skidded around the corner. By the zig-zagging way it raced, Clara guessed immediately that the driver was intoxicated. Then time slowed way down.

Her head turned toward the Doctor, whose head perked up only when the car was within a few meters of himself. It was speeding over the limit of most highways, nevertheless a village street. His eyes widened, and the bag of fudge dropped from his left hand as the alien tracker dropped from his right. They both hit the ground at the same time that two awful sounds entered Clara's ears. One was the screeching tires against the bumpy road. The other was the metal of the car's front crashing into the Doctor's middle.

"No," Clara said, her voice hardly above a whisper. Everything suddenly came speeding back into its proper time. The car charged forward, fleeing the scene. The Doctor fell, rolling twice over the cobblestones before coming to rest on his side, his back facing Clara. He was so still.

As she surged forward, Clara's mind went into overdrive, cranking out memories and anxieties. First came the memory of Danny Pink. Was she going to have to relive that awful day again? Why was it always stupid cars? There weren't even ambulances this time; no one else to help or to call for assistance. She had only just gotten back with the Doctor; had only just told him the truth about Danny. Was she going to have to add another five minute grieving period to her day?

Then the story of her parents' first meeting came buzzing through her head. She'd heard it as a bedtime story repeatedly throughout her childhood. Why couldn't Clara have been more like her mum? Why couldn't she ever save the one she loved; have the only token be a silly little leaf?


	2. Chapter 2

Clara was halfway toward the Doctor now, stepping shakily over the forgotten, flattened banana fudge. She had hated the pungent smell of it earlier, but oh, what she wouldn't give to see the Doctor eating it now.

Clara crept closer, hardly daring to breathe she was so focused on the Doctor. Her eyes were wide and unblinking with shock and her teeth chattered against each other. She still couldn't see his front, but she thought she saw his shoulders rise and fall, just fractionally.

Taking a deep breath, she hurried the rest of the way around the fallen Timelord and knelt on the cobblestones beside him. The corner of her eye caught the red of his jacket and for a second she nearly had a heart attack. The lining of that ridiculous magician coat looked like a pool of blood. Clara took another deep breath and pulled herself together, then rested her hand gently on his upper arm, careful not to apply too much pressure in case he was injured.

Her eyes darted over his body. He was lying awkwardly on his side, one arm splayed out on the ground beside her and one resting loosely on his abdomen. She couldn't see any visible wounds on his body, but his face revealed a different story. Three parallel cuts grazed his left cheek, small but bleeding. More of the red plasma dribbled out the right corner of his mouth. He was, however, definitely breathing, a fact that lessened a bit of the worry gripping Clara's chest.

Her hand moved up his arm to his hair, which she twirled around her fingers absentmindedly. The shock of the situation was fading away, sending waves of emotion through Clara's mind. Quietly, she cried to herself, holding back the sobs that threatened to wrack her body. Thoughts of Danny whirled through her subconscious, reminding her what he had gone through, and what she had gone through afterward. She couldn't do it again.

As if in answer to one of Clara's numerous prayers, the Doctor softly groaned, his head tilting up just a bit. Now Clara could see the dark bruise beside his right eye, and the deep gash just above it on his forehead. Blood trickled heavily down his face. Clara ignored that for the moment, though, and held him down carefully but firmly.

"Shh, you've gotta keep still. I don't want you to hurt yourself."

She'd seen medical dramas before, of course, but admittedly she had never focused on the procedures. Usually the doctors and nurses on those programs were much too distracting. She shook her head and tried to think. There were protocols for these kinds of situations. They always had to know them for school, in case one of the kids ever had an emergency. Clara knew she'd read some handbook or seen a film about this before. She closed her eyes and thought, then opened them a moment later with new determination and confidence.

"Right, I'm going to check and see if you've broken anything."

The Doctor merely murmured again, incoherent. A few more specks of blood ran past his lips and down his chin. Clara blinked back a few tears and got to work, running her hands up and down his arms, then his legs. "Okay, now the more serious part. Just hold still."

She gently felt around his neck and then down his back. He winced slightly, but nothing felt amiss. That was, until she ran her hands down his chest. He cried out and jerked away as her fingers glided over a few ribs on his right side that were definitely broken. Clara squeaked in a gasp, and then moved her hands back to his head, brushing his hair back soothingly. "I'm done; I'm done. I'm sorry. Hey," she caressed his temple with her thumb. He breathed shakily, still getting over the new pain she'd accidentally caused him. "Can you look at me?"

Slowly, his eyes drifted open. They were watery and heavily lidded, but Clara took it with a smile. "Hello," she said, still brushing her thumb through his bangs.

He coughed suddenly, weakly moving his arm to cover it. When the spasm was over, he stared dazedly at the blood now covering his fingers, then licked his lips with furrowed eyebrows, wincing as he tasted iron. Clara pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and dabbed at his mouth, holding his head still with her other hand.

"Shh, it's alright. It's alright."

Clara's comforting words were as much for herself as they were for him. Her handkerchief was completely stained in red and his mouth and chin were still tinged with pink. She tossed the fabric into the street and went back to stroking his hair. This stupid planet could deal with the litter on their own. Them and their drunk drivers, doing hit-and-runs in a quaint little village…

"Clara," the Doctor gasped, eyelids fluttering and forehead creasing in pain. She took his hand in her own as he groaned and shut his eyes. "Hurts."

She squeezed his hand and looked him over once more, making sure she hadn't missed any obvious injuries. Then she turned back to his face and shuddered as his features slackened, eyelids drifting shut. Her hand let go of his and instead tapped his cheek a few times, avoiding the scrapes running across his face.

"Doctor? Doctor; stay with me. Doctor!"

She squeezed his hand tightly, and finally he responded, opening his eyes again. She almost jumped up in delight. "Stay with me."

They simply watched each other for a moment, then Clara bit her lip and looked around her for the first time in a while. They were still in the middle of the street. And running into aliens probably wouldn't be a good idea. Lord only knows how they'd respond to an injured Timelord. They had too many enemies to give anyone the benefit of the doubt. Clara made a decision and looked back at the Doctor, who, gratefully, was still awake.

"Doctor?" She started, speaking slowly and clearly. "Do you know how hurt you are? You told me you have that bodily awareness thing or whatever."

He closed his eyes, squeezing her hand to let her know he wasn't falling asleep, and counted all the injuries he'd sustained. He seemed to gain a bit of energy as he rattled off, "Three broken ribs, one of them dangerous. Bit my tongue. Bruised scapula. And face. And then a few scratches on my head, one of them...hurting."

He gasped the last sentence through gritted teeth. Clara looked him over pitifully, but counted her blessings that it wasn't worse. A thought suddenly came to her and she shook his hand to bring him back to focus. "Wait, you said one of your ribs was dangerous. What does that mean?"

He opened his eyes again and slowly gestured to one of the ribs on his right side. "It's close to my lung. Best not to jostle it too much."

"Right." Clara chewed her bottom lip, glancing at the hill from which they'd arrived. "Okay. Okay. What should we do?"

He groaned again and brought his hand up to his face, covering the growing bruise over his right eye and the deep cut on his forehead. Clara grabbed his wrist and pulled it away. "Don't touch it, your hands are filthy."

Softly, the Doctor muttered, "Yours can't be much better."

She smiled at his ability to banter at a time like this, but he did have a point. Her hands were covered in grime and a layer of his blood. Tears blinked into her eyes. "Doctor, what should I do?"

"TARDIS. You can fly her. Telepathic circuits."

Clara's jaw fell open, her voice rising. "I can't just leave you here! What if another car comes?"

The Doctor sighed, taking uneven breaths and closing his eyes. Clara massaged his shoulder and whispered, "Sorry. Is your head still bothering you?"

"Worse than ever."

Clara glanced left, then right, and then knelt higher on her knees, taking the Doctor's hand. She stared deeply into his eyes. "I will be right back for you. I promise."

He nodded. She took that as her cue and forced herself to stand, a shaky breath emitting from her lips. She looked at him once more, and new tears formed. He was lying on the street, still halfway on his side, eyes like a lost child looking up at her. Earlier in the shop, not half an hour before, he had seemed so tall and heroic and goofy. Now he was tiny and broken, in the street with his hair matted and his face covered in blood and dirt. Clara tore her eyes away and looked up at the daunting hill, ready to be the Doctor's hero. Ready to be the impossible girl.

Her legs glided over the cobblestones, barely making contact as she sprinted past the greenery and the flower boxes and the old fashioned cars. She let the tears stream freely now, and heaved out a few sobs she'd been holding in. By the time her eyes locked on the TARDIS straight ahead, she was practically weeping.

She shoved her hands into the telepathic circuits as soon as she made it to the console, closing her eyes. She pictured the Doctor, her time travelling idiot, dashing around like he owned the place. She thought back to when they were at the North Pole, inside a dream, and he was so excited to fly Santa's sleigh.

So caught up she was in her memories, Clara barely noticed the TARDIS groan as they landed. She looked down to find the Doctor, his banana fudge, and that stupid, stupid alien tracker lying on the floor. She pulled her fingers out of the psychic goo and wiped them on her pants, then went to the Doctor.

He already seemed to be improving, his eyes opened wider than she'd seen them since the accident and his movements just a bit faster as he reached up for her hand. She took it with one of her own, tilting his head gently with her other. He grimaced, but she grimaced more. The right side of his face was caked in blood, and the bruising looked like a terrible eye shadow job after a heavy rain. Instantly, she went to the console and picked out a few towels and bandages.

"Doctor, you could've told me it was this bad. You let me just stroke your hair all that time."

"Ah, it's-"

He hissed as she set a towel on the wound, pressing down. "It's not as bad as it looks."

She raised an eyebrow as she dug through her medical pile for a bandage. "Well, it looks awful."

He smiled lopsidedly at her, making her feel almost guilty as she began cleaning the grime off of him with a different towel and some water. His smile was replaced with gritted teeth and eyes squeezed shut.

She finished wrapping a piece of gauze all round his head, then placed a few smaller bandages over the cuts on his left cheek. He was impressed, but not happy. "I must look like a mummy."

She scrunched up her face, putting her tools away. "It's not that bad."

She looked him over, then jumped as he made to sit up. With two hands, she firmly held his shoulders on the floor. "You said you shouldn't move-your rib."

He swatted her hand away but reached his arm across to hold his chest and laid back. "I can't just lie here until this heals. Even with my superior biology it could take hours."

She mockingly widened her eyes. "Wow, hours lying down. Sounds terrible."

He sighed, closing his eyes. "I hardly sleep for three hours in a week. In one day, that's highly irregular."

"Yes, but this has been an irregular kind of day."

He let her win that argument, leaning back against the grating. She still wasn't satisfied. "I'll be right back. Gotta wash up and get a few things."

He opened an eye to watch her go, but closed it as soon as she'd left the room. A few moments later, he felt something warm and soft being set on top of him. Without opening his eyes, he muttered, "What are you doing?"

She tucked the blanket beneath his legs and glanced up at his face. "Making you comfortable."

"Now I really feel like a mummy."

She smiled, so happy to have him back again, making jokes. Then she went back to his head and cupped a hand around the back of his neck. "Tell me if this hurts."

She raised his head gently and set a pillow beneath him, then laid him back down again. He didn't protest or make any comment at all. Quietly, she leaned down and listened to his slow, calm breathing. Her grin widened and she kissed his head, just above where the gauze met his hair. She chuckled at the way the bandage sent his hair all spiky and standing up.

"Sleep tight, Doctor."

As she rose, she heard a faint, "Night night, Clara." Then, padded across the room and sat on the second step, reading an old copy of Pride and Prejudice.


	3. Chapter 3

Clara finished the third chapter of her book and closed it with a gentle smile. Her eye had been drifting for the past hour between Jane Austen's words and the sleeping Timelord on the floor in front of her. She was still sick with worry over him, but he'd been quiet and peaceful so far. Now, though, he was beginning to stir again. Clara could only hope that he was going to let her take care of him. She hated when he brushed her off, especially when it was something serious.

She knelt beside him as his eyes fluttered open, and smiled at the way his hair was still sticking up all over the place. The gauze on his forehead had a red spot where he had gashed it earlier, but it was small and healing rapidly. She turned back to his eyes and stroked his hair gently with her thumb. "How do you feel?"

"My head doesn't hurt. But my chest still feels like a bus hit it."

She gave him a pitying smile. "It wasn't quite a bus, but yeah you got hit pretty hard. Should I scan it just to make sure you're alright?"

He gave her a face that was less than enthused. "It's just a broken rib or two."

She rubbed his arm. "Well, you can never be too safe, right? That's what you told me last week when we went to that anti-grav show."

"That's because," he said, "I have a duty of care."

She raised her eyebrows at him. "And right now I have a duty of care for you. Hold on."

He rested his head back on the pillow, whining, "Clara, no, it's fine."

But she was already opening the Console panel, searching through its contents. "Aha!", she exclaimed, pulling out the med scanner. "Why've you got it all the way in the back?"

He muttered, "So you won't go looking for it every day."

She went back to his side and knelt high above him, running the scanner over his body. As she passed it over his chest, her eyes widened. His teeth set in a grimace for what was coming next.

"Doctor, you've broken five ribs, not two! Bloody...when were you going to tell me?"

He shut his eyes and leaned into his blanket and pillow. "It's fine. I'll be up and at 'em in a day or two."

Clara shoved the scanner in his face, right in front of his eyes, which he hesitantly opened. "Really?", she said with her voice rising a few pitches. "It says here you need medical attention. Stay here. I'll be right back."

She stood and he muttered, "I'm not planning on going anywhere."

She spun around and gave him her scariest teacher look. He nestled deeper into his blanket until she turned back around and headed off for the med bay. Then he looked up at the rotating Time Rotor, listening to the TARDIS yelling at him inside his head.

Clara tore her eyes away from the Doctor and stomped down the steps toward the med bay? Wiping furiously at her eyes. Why did he have to be so difficult all the time? Why couldn't he just let her help him every now and then? Maybe tell her the truth every once in a while?

She entered the pristine med bay and gazed around the white, bleak space, mentally asking the TARDIS for some clues. Then she rifled through the cabinets, haphazardly pulling open drawers and leaving them and opening the cabinets with such force that she almost broke a few of the little handles. Silently, she apologized to the TARDIS, but the ship seemed to sympathise with her more than anything.

When Clara returned to the Doctor, she set the pile of medical tools on the floor and ripped his blanket away without hesitation. He groaned as he opened his eyes again to find her glaring at him. In the corners of her brown eyes was a soft glimmer of worry. Then the Doctor felt her cut through his shirt and jacket with a pair of steel scissors, revealing his chest. Her eyes suddenly appeared more cross than glimmering.

"Clara! That was my favorite jacket. I won it in a contest on Future Mars."

Going over to her toolkit, she murmured, "Then you shouldn't have lied to me."

He silenced himself at her words and instead simply watched her. She was picking up two medical tools that made him uneasy. "Did she say those were necessary?"

"Yes, hold still."

He made to sit up, but she held him down firmly. "Wait, Clara, do you know how to use that?"

"Yes, she showed me. Lie back."

She set the first tool over his ribcage. It was a thin rectangle that acted as an instant X-Ray. Clara stuck it to his chest with medical tape and then picked up the second tool, which looked almost like his Sonic Screwdriver but with a different, all metal tip. She brought it over his first broken rib and she finally noticed how heavily he was breathing. Her eyes and her voice softened, and she touched a hand to his shoulder.

"Hey, it's alright. You ready?"

He took a second, and then nodded, forcing his breathing to be slower and more even. Clara pressed the button on the device, watching the tip light up blue, and waited until the same blue glowed around the rib. Then, slowly, she pulled the device upwards. The rib did the same, rising up until it was back in its proper place. Clara turned off the small device and let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding and looked at the Doctor's face. Sweat was beading down his forehead rapidly, and his eyes were closed.

"Alright," she said, "four more to go."

The next rib was easier, and the process went without conflict. After the third, the Doctor was grimacing, sucking in a sharp breath every few seconds. As Clara started the fourth, he cried out suddenly in pain, and she instantly paused in her work. Tears glistened in his eyes, and she could hear his teeth chattering. Softly, she cupped his face in her palm.

"It's okay. It's okay, we'll take a break."

He met her eyes. "No," he gasped, "no, keep going. Can you just…"

She saw his fingers shift, and she took hold of his hand in her free one. "Of course. Okay."

As she fixed his fourth rib, she felt him almost breaking the fingers of her left hand. As soon as she was finished, she gently extracted his hand from hers and rubbed her fingers to make sure she was alright, then she stroked his eyebrow with her thumb. "There's just one left. It's not as bad as that last one."

"Go for it," he muttered, eyes closed and voice ragged. Clara easily brought the last rib back into place, and then tossed both of her medical tools back into the pile.

Next, she picked up a bottle of purple goo the TARDIS had given her and squeezed it onto her fingertips. Awkwardly, she touched it to the Doctor's chest. He gasped at the sudden coldness, and looked up at her in confusion.

"It helps it heal faster, apparently," she explained, massaging the good over his hurt ribs. He winced slightly, but made no sound or movement of protest. She finished up and closed the bottle of goo, then picked up one last thing.

"She wants you to take this medicine."

He eyed the dark liquid suspiciously as Clara poured it into a little cup. As she brought it close to his face, he leaned away, sniffing it and making a face. But Clara was prepared. She put a hand gently behind his head and tilted it up, then brought the medicine to his mouth and poured it through his lips. He almost spit it out in disgust, but Clara had her teacher face on again, so he swallowed without argument. Clara smiled.

Just a moment after the Doctor had taken the medicine, his eyelids suddenly became heavy, his eyes blinking slowly. "Clara…"

He eyed her curiously, unable to feel his limbs, or decide where he wanted to look. He couldn't tell whether his mouth was open or not. All he saw was her big brown eyes, and her soft, comforting smile. Then he felt her hand on the back of his head, and was suddenly resting against his pillow once more.

"You need to rest for an hour or two. Then we can have tea and watch a movie or something."

He tried to reply, but forgot what he wanted to say. He opted instead to lean closer into Clara's hand and let her stroke his hair until he dozed off.

Clara watched as the Doctor grew more and more relaxed, until finally his arm dropped to his side and his eyes shut completely. He was breathing deeply and evenly, sounding much better than before. Clara pulled the gauze off his head revealing healed wounds, and kissed his forehead. Then she returned the blanket to cover his chest, and took one of his hands in both of her own.

"Oh, Doctor," she said, watching him sleep peacefully. "What am I going to do with you?"

She kissed his knuckles, and then sat holding his hand for many minutes, her knees growing sore. As she sat, she finally let her tears flow freely, adrenaline gone, and the day catching up with her. She knew they always lives dangerously, but never had she seen that danger more clearly than today, on a silly little village street, because of a silly little car. Softly, she chuckled a watery laugh.

"That would be you, hit by a car. It's not a bloody Dalek or Cyberman that gets you, it's a stupid, ordinary car."

She shook her head and squeezed his hand tighter. Then he squeezed back, just a little, and she smiled. His eyes fluttered open, unpained and bright. "Clara," he said, getting his voice back slowly. "Did you give me a sedative?"

She chuckled. "The TARDIS said you needed rest."

He tilted his head back, looking at the TARDIS Console, and smiled. "Of course she did."

She squeezed his hand again, and he turned back to her. "Are you alright?", she asked.

"Yeah."

He made to sit up, but Clara grabbed onto his arm tightly. He slowly extracted her fingers and sat up fully, wincing only a little. "I'm fine. Told you; a few hours and I'm right as rain."

Clara let go of his hand and got to her knees. "Only because I helped you."

"Yes," he said, sobering. "Yes." He met her eye. "Thank you."

They shared a smile, and then he jumped to his feet. Clara's eyes widened, but she smiled as she noticed he wasn't limping or wincing as he danced around the Console. He pulled a lever and the ship took off. Then he looked at her with wide, adventurous eyes.

"Where to?"

"Somewhere without people or cars."

He pointed at her. "I know the perfect place. Mountains made of trees and oceans made of soap bubbles. You wanna see?"

"Sounds amazing."

He chuckled, dialing a few numbers into the coordinates. "What's amazing is the flying wildebeest. That's a story for the grandkids."

Clara walked around the Console and stood behind him, then wrapped her arms suddenly around his waist, holding him to her chest with her eyes closed, face leaning on his back. The Doctor turned his face halfway toward her.

"You still owe me a new jacket. This one's all open in the front."

She murmured into his jacket back, "You and I both know the TARDIS makes these by the dozen."

"Alright. But I need to go grab one before we land."

She tightened her grip on him. "I'm not done yet."

"Okay."

He stopped fighting and let her rest against him for another minute. Then, quietly, she said, "Doctor?"

"Yes?"

She came around his side and looked up at him. "Please never put me through that again."

He wrapped her in a hug of his own, which she took with a bright smile.

"Never again, boss. I promise."

Her eye turned stern. "Look both ways. Twice."

He nodded. "Yes ma'am."

"And tell me when you need help."

"Clara, I promise."

She rubbed his shoulder gently. "We've both got a duty of care."

"Yes; yes we do."

They were silent for a moment, then the Doctor's eyes drifted awkwardly toward the staircase to the intricate TARDIS corridors. "Clara? Can I get dressed now?"

"Go for it."

He went off back to his room as Clara leaned heavily against the Console, breathing in slowly. Finally there wasn't a weight like an elephant on her chest. She smiled as she tried to imagine the planet they were heading toward, and then picked up her Jane Austen again to read while waiting for the Doctor. It could be scary sometimes travelling in the TARDIS, but God was it worth it.


End file.
